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The clock always had such an annoying sound, Chuuya thought.
Every second that passes is more time that goes on, and the clock makes sure that you know it, passing every second of its wooden life just making that annoying sound. Tick, tock, tick, tock. It made him feel irritated.
And, today, that sound just kept going on and on, getting more and more annoying by the second, as if it wanted to say something more. As if there was a hidden message, as if it was different, but it wasn’t. It was the same. It isn’t alive, after all. It’s not even a human being. And yet here is Chuuya, analyzing it and listening to it as if it’s one. As if it had any objective other than doing its work.
Chuuya had always thought that clocks and Dazai were fairly similar.
Buzzing and annoying, always.
And, of course, he made sure to tell that to the other boy everytime the thought occurred. And the answer was always another insult, most likely about his height, or some obscure thing that he had done like two years ago, which was always weird. Why did Dazai remember so much about Chuuya? Even he forgot about that one time three years ago on january 29th time 5:23pm that he accidentally read a book sideways, yet that mummy could remember it perfectly, as if he had written it down somewhere.
And yet, this time, things weren’t the same. Nothing was the same.
They bumped shoulders by accident, because Chuuya thought that Dazai would just move away, like he always does, but he didn’t. He didn’t move away. He barely walked like an alive person. He barely bickered back. He barely looked at him. He wasn’t even smiling. He didn’t even hide his eye, for the first time. And yet, with all the differences, it still ended up the same way.
“You’re as annoying as a clock!”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Dazai had looked down, more than before, and after a few seconds, he looked at Chuuya, for the first time in this conversation. (But it wasn’t like he was looking at Chuuya, it didn’t feel like that. It felt like he was looking at someone else.)
“If clocks are broken, can time stop?”
And what was he supposed to answer?
It’s been a few hours since the last executives meeting. And, since then, all that Chuuya has been doing is staring at his own kitchen and fiddling around an empty glass of wine, which hasn’t felt much taste since the boy had come into the house. He wasn’t drinking the expensive wine in front of him because he was too busy listening to the sound of the clock, as if it had a heart, as if it was speaking. He hoped that the clock could speak. He wanted to destroy it. He cherished it. It was the same, it was the same, but he wasn't.
You see, it was a joyful occasion. Chuuya didn’t even have his hat on for how special it was.
“Chuuya-kun, look at this.” a letter, perhaps a drawing in the hands of his boss. It looked ugly and eerily creepy, and the writing below was illegible and atrocious. Obviously that mackerel had done that, without a doubt. And the written content wasn’t that pretty, either.
“Dazai Osamu’s leaving this shithole, goodbye!★” There was even a badly drawn star next to it.
“There’s more on the back, but it’s just threats so we don’t chase him. Oh, I’m so truly hurt!” Mori just yapped around about how betrayed and back stabbed he felt, but Chuuya just let out a sigh of relief, smiling. “Thank god that nuisance is gone.” It was like a bunch of weight had just come off of his shoulders.
Kouyou also seemed to ignore Mori’s dramatic acts, busying herself to look at the boy next to her. “Chuuya. Are you happy?” She wasn’t smiling. She seemed worried.
“Obviously I am, don’t worry.” He felt happy.
“Don’t do anything rash.” Her worry just seemed to grow, and it made the gravity user sad. Really, he’s happy. He can live peacefully now, once and for all.
And yet, now that he’s home, he barely knows what to do. He had planned to have a private feast with the most expensive wine, and yet, here he is, staring at the void, studying a clock and playing with a fancy cup, barely able to think about anything at all.
How pathetic, really.
As Chuuya thinks by himself, he hears a quiet noise coming from the windows. He knows what it is. He’s used to it by now. Thing is, he doesn’t know why that is.
The sound gets louder, echoing more and more inside of the room, his neighbors have probably started hearing it by now. And so, he lets out an exhausted sigh (as if he had done anything significant these past hours) and walks towards the source of dismay.
He lifts up the window by the slightest bit. “Do you have some sort of death wish?” he hisses.
“Several, actually!” a revolting voice replies, making Chuuya feel like he’s about to throw up.
“I’m not letting you in, fall off and die alone.” Chuuya scoffs, about to close down the window and go back to his very eventful evening.
The voice from outside whines, yelling various “No!”s and “Stop that!”s, blocking the window with a bandaged hand. “If anyone sees us like this, they’re gonna think you’re working with me! Isn’t that bad for you?!”
Chuuya wonders why the other boy isn’t dead yet as he hesitantly opens the window widely, side eyeing the ugly mackerel-like figure that is now grossly entering his humble abode. “Fucking hell! What do you want?? You left already, Dazai! Get out of my life you fuck!” as usual, he yells at the man for the surprise irruption. (that at least didn’t end up in a broken window, which would NOT be the first time) (seriously, what is wrong with this guy, this is the 14th floor of the building.)
Instead of listening to him, Dazai eyes the luxurious wine, which costs around 625k dollars, and he stares at it with childlike wonder, immediately pouring himself a cup (which was supposed to be Chuuya’s) instead of listening to the other’s ongoing laments.
Dazai doesn't even like wine that much, he's more of a beer guy. What the hell.
As the obnoxious intruder takes a sip out of Chuuya's cup, the owner of the apartment pauses his ramblings and stares at him, trying to see if he'll at least like the wine he just fucking stole.
One sip, two sips. A pause, putting the cup down his head a bit, tasting it thoroughly, then sticking his tongue out. "Chuuya, this sucks. Gimme somethin' else." maybe he was born to bother him, considering how good he is at it.
"Maybe your blood is tasty enough?" Chuuya, figuring out that he's not gonna get any answers since nothing goes his way whenever this thing's around, sits down in the chair next to his previous one, resting his chin upon his gloved hand. He can't even do shit how he wants around his own home.
Dazai scowls, making some high pitched noises that resemble one of a bird. "What are you, a vampire!?" He takes a sip out of the wine that he just called horrid. "I'm a guest, so treat me like royalty~"
"That wine costs more than your eye, so shut it." Chuuya starts fiddling around the second cup he had next to the other one. He can't remember why he put it in there, since he wasn't expecting a guest.
Curious by what he heard, Dazai looks at the name on the bottle, his mouth widening. "I'm selling this, then." he replies shortly after, highly irritating his ex-partner.
"I'm selling your organs." Dazai mustn't be sure if that's a joke or not, so he just laughs as Chuuya looks down upon his cup. "Did you come here just to steal my wine?"
Dazai's laughter suddenly interrupts, turning into a small and soft smile, almost nostalgic as he also looks upon his half-empty cup. "...Missed you?"
"Fucking liar."
The bandaged man starts tapping his fingers on the counter, as if to replicate a melody. "You're not even looking at me, Chuuya."
And at that, the redhead swallows. Hard.
That's true.
Since that guy has come into his apartment, Chuuya could barely look at him, let alone at his eyes. Have they changed? Or is he still the same as always? Does he still have that eye bandage that he's had since they met? Would anything change if he didn't? Is this some sort of horribly planned goodbye? Forever? Are they ever gonna meet again?
"Your face is too ugly, you should cover it up again." In the end, that's all that he could ever say.
At that, Dazai looks at him, with the same annoyingly fake smile. "Say, Chuuya." He pauses as he pronounces his name thoroughly, extending the vowels with a voice reminiscing of melted hot chocolate. "If I had ever asked you, would you have committed double suicide with me?"
Chuuya grits his teeth, close to destroying the cup in his hands into a million pieces. "You know the answer, so!" he kicks his chair a meter away from himself while getting up, punching the table with one fist and using the other to raise the cup up and as he's about to smash it onto Dazai's head he-
He looks at him.
At his face.
At his face expression.
He looks like
He looks like Dazai
Like his partner
A bit.
…
That fuck is still smiling.
Chuuya sighs, using his leg to make the chair slide back in place, that annoying sound of iron or wood or whatever his chair is made out of echoing throughout the room. He sits down and looks at his empty cup which was about to disappear not long ago. "...So why bother…asking..?" He sounded exhausted.
And Dazai wasn't smiling anymore. His face was blank now, as if to search for an answer. "Would you now?" He presses.
"No." The redhead answers without an ounce of hesitation, and Dazai takes another sip out of his cup.
"Do you know why I left, Chuuya?" And here he is again, staring off at something in the distance, as if looking for something that isn't there.
"That Odasaku guy died so we could get our permit, right?" Chuuya knew about him, he had met the man a couple of times and heard about him a few hundreds, all thanks to the mackerel sitting next to him right now. He was a pretty nice guy, nothing that Chuuya could pinpoint against him, as if he was perfect. He didn't kill anyone because of his dream, he saved orphans and raised them up, he was a good friend and a great fighter and his ability was awesome and maybe he really was perfect. "And he was your favorite person in the whole world, so you left." He almost sounded bitter, unknowingly.
Dazai smiles fondly while thinking of that man, as if he was a nice memory, fiddling around the cup in his fingers. "I see that you did your research." he pauses a bit, then he looks at Chuuya. "In his final words, he told me that I'd never find my happiness if I kept going like this. So I might as well be on the good side of life."
"And it took someone's dying words for you to figure out that maybe committing illegal acts won't help you find the spark of life?" Chuuya scoffs.
Dazai just let out a tiny chuckle at that.
The redhead sighs, now looking at his ex-partner. "Listen, I'll give you a headstart." He raises his empty cup up. "Two years. Two years to start your life all over again." His eyes tighten as the light reflects on the glass. "And then, I'll kill you on sight." And finally, he rests it back down on the table, looking back at the same (is he still?) man. "I'm intrigued to see what you can do."
Dazai's lips curl into a grin, and Chuuya gulps at the sight, because he knows him. And he knows that this isn't gonna be good. "I think you misunderstood," that's rare between the two of them. "You're coming with me."
Chuuya locks his eyes on the man next to him, not moving by an inch. "Excuse me?"
"You're coming with me, Chuuya. You're my obedient dog, after all!" he almost sounds happy to claim that.
Chuuya regrets being nice just a second ago already. "You better stop joking around before I reduce your headstart from 2 years to 10 seconds." Chuuya is a loyal man. He would never betray the Port Mafia, not only because he hates being betrayed, but because he promised to. And he wants to keep all of his promises. And because this is where he belongs. And because this is the only thing he can do.
Dazai gets used to the sound of his own sighing echoing inside of Chuuya's almost empty yet somewhat filled house. He probably knew that this wouldn't be that easy from the start. Actually, it's most likely impossible. So why even try? "...C'mon, don't you understand, Chuuya? You need to leave with me."
"I've never understood you." Chuuya wishes that this was a lie. (and in half, it is.)
Dazai takes the bottle and fills his cup up once again, but this time without even taking a sip. "...I hate to admit it, but" his tone is suddenly serious and Chuuya can't help but ache, "we're so, so annoyingly similar. It's like we're mirrors." They both knew this already, and they'd rather gulp down some bullets than admit it, so the fact that DAZAI OSAMU was the first to do so is serious, Chuuya can acknowledge that.
"Well, unlike you, I have morals and I set mine down as good as stone. And they are NOT changing anytime soon." Chuuya almost shouts the not part, wanting Dazai to really understand that he's fully serious when he's saying that, and he will never change his mind on it. Dazai can't manipulate him. He knows that man.
"You insist on being a dumb slug until the very end? Come on…" Dazai takes some time to take a small sip of his (not fully) wine, the pause hurts Chuuya like nothing does. "We're a different side of the same coin. You won't find your spark here either, Chuuya."
"The Port Mafia is my spark." he grips the cup of wine heavy in his hands.
"And your happiness?"
"And my happiness."
"You're happy?"
"I'm happier than you'll ever be."
Dazai looks at the wine, his expression empty. "You help grannies walking in the streets. You always make sure to follow the speed limit on the roads. You give the finest food to a pack of puppies behind the movie theater and hope that no one sees you. You care for all of your subordinates and treat them all like gold. You adore fights, but not killing. You only kill if you have to, if it's necessary." Just stop already, please. Shut up. Don't you dare. "Chuuya, you don't belong in the Port Mafia."
Chuuya grits his teeth. He knows that already, dammit, he knows . "It's the place where I belong the most, it's where I want to be, and I'd do anything for the Port Mafia, no matter what! So I'm not going anywhere else, no matter what your mackerel flapping mouth says!" he shouts due to how furious he feels towards this man, and due to how goddamn right he can be at times.
Dazai seems pleased by his reaction, but not so much by his words. His lips rise and linger there, standing still for a slight moment. "Mori's just using you, he barely sees you as a human. But-"
Chuuya interrupts him immediately, he knows what he's gonna say next. "If the Port Mafia wanted or needed me to die, I would without any hesitation." He sounds prideful about it.
"Is that your happiness?"
"It is."
The room stays silent for a while.
"You're not free like that, you know? You're like a lab rat." It's like he's trying his absolute best to hit every single nerve of chuuya's.
Chuuya thinks a bit before answering. "If I want to do it, then it is my freedom." Such a subjective matter is difficult to discuss for both of them.
Dazai isn't looking at his ex-partner anymore. "No. No, no, no, it's not. You're not free, Chuuya, you're not." He mumbles and grips his cup. Hard. And Chuuya can't help but ache again. He doesn't know what to answer, it doesn't even seem like a question. Is it one? Or is Dazai just rambling off as if the redhead himself isn't there? "You should stop being so selfish."
"Selfish? Just how am I- '' Chuuya can't even finish his sentence fully before being interrupted by the sound of glass violently crashing onto the floor, spilling the wine everywhere around Chuuya's expensive floor and he can see all of it. A broken growling reminiscent of a voice comes next.
"You're selfish, you're too selfish! And selfless! Just how can you be both? That's so annoying of you! You're so easy to use, it's annoying! Why are you so loyal to the Port Mafia, again??? Oh yeah, because you think that letting others use you is the only good thing you can do since it's all you've ever known! You're too kind to manipulate others too, and that's all so annoying! Don't you think about your friends? About what they might think?? Those extravagant old friends of yours loved you, you know? And did you know what they wished for? For you to be free! Everyone who truly loves you wants you to be free, Chuuya! And that's just so annoying!"
And oh, this is new.
And oh, this hurts.
Actually, Chuuya knows most of this already. He has spent his entire life being used by others, even when he was supposed to be the leader. And he hated it, no, hates it. And it'll probably be like this his entire life, he might as well die because of it. And he does, in fact, thinks that this can be the only way for him to do something "good" , no matter how many twisted acts he may have to accomplish. Even if he doesn't likes killing, even if he values other's lives, even if everyone he cares about ends up dying, even if often his loyalty is only one sided, this is the only thing he can do. There's nothing else for him. And everyone who wants him to be "free" isn't here anymore. So what's the point?
Is there even any light left for him?
And then, he stops gazing at the wine and his eyes go up to Dazai.
Dazai isn't looking at the wine, he's trying his best not to. He's actually looking at his own curled fists, his hands are probably bleeding considering how harsh the grip seems to be. Both his eyebrows and eyes are scrunched up, confused. He's biting his bottom lip. And this is…Real. Painfully so. Chuuya hates how he can tell that this is real. Like this, Dazai looks like a child that just broke his mom's vase while playing football. If you didn't know about his crimes, you'd think that he almost seemed like an innocent person. And now that Chuuya thinks more about it, Dazai is a child. Both of them, actually. They're barely 18, and yet they've already done and suffered so much. They've never even drunk a smoothie or boba together or whatever other teens do.
And the more he thinks about it…Dazai was lying. He didn't come here to pick up Chuuya just so he could be his bodyguard or slave or maid or whatever. It's because he doesn't want Chuuya to be used, he wants him to be free and experience his life like he was supposed to before being taken into a lab. It's because he wants Chuuya to find his true life, the one he was supposed to have before it was forcefully stripped away by everyone around him. It's because Dazai wants him to be truly happy.
Dazai is a liar. Dazai cares.
And at those thoughts, Chuuya's lips can't help but quiver. He needs confirmation, and he remembers his words. "Dazai…Like them, do you love me too?"
The kid who was just named deepens his expression and just ends up burying his head on his rested arms, as if ashamed to show his current feelings, as if ashamed to show vulnerability. As if afraid to…Answer.
"I want you to be free, Chuuya." He mumbles in a barely audible voice, cracking at every word, slowly letting it all out.
Chuuya Nakahara has lived for 18 years, and this is the only combination of words that he ever needed to hear.
His hand lingers around Dazai's head, almost wanting to reassure him, but he hesitates. He's hesitating a lot of things right now, this is very unlike him. Oh, to hell with it.
"...We should write in our resume that the school we went to was full of criminals, that'd explain a lot."
Dazai slowly raises his head up, protective of himself. "You'll come with me? Really?"
Chuuya could answer with the sweetest words, but that's unnecessary for them, and they both know. "Only I can tie your bandages perfectly, mackerel. And that's 99% of your twisted style, so without me you're over!" Chuuya has always been the only one who was allowed to see under his bandages in the changing rooms.
Dazai seems like he's unable to breathe for a bit. His eyes are teary, yet nothing is able to come out, he only lets out one sniffle. This is his own way of crying, Chuuya noted as this was the first time.
The two of them are flawed, and they'll always be. But that's fine. They don't have to be perfect, and neither does their relationship, whatever it is. If they try to go outside their comfort zones, they'll be able to reach their spark, atleast. And isn't that good enough already?
Maybe, they'll finally have some boba together this time, Chuuya hopes.